Hallowed Eve
by H.J. Bender
Summary: Blackheart visits a lonely Johnny Blaze on All Hallow’s Eve. Johnny/Blackheart slash.


_'Tis now the very witching time of night,  
When churchyards yawn and Hell itself breathes out  
Contagion to this world . . ._  
-Shakespeare, "Hamlet"

Johnny Blaze had never been a fan of Halloween. The holiday was entirely too dark for him, and it struck a chord in his heart that was far more intimate and painful than he would have liked. And ever since Zarathos had been woken within him three years ago, Halloween was the one day of the year he dreaded. It should have been otherwise, he thought, half-demon that he was. He should feel right at home. It was the one night that belonged to the Devil.

But even though Blaze's mind was troubled by images of hellfire and demon shadows, he hated to be the only one on the block to disappoint all the little kids who knocked on his door.

His vagrant wandering had led him to a temporary residence in Santa Fe, and for now it was his home. In another six months he'd be back on Grace, putting miles of blacktop under his wheels and burning the sinners out of existence. Always alone, always empty. But that was only a murky vision of the future. This was now and now was Halloween, so Blaze had thrown together a candy cocktail in a large bucket and taken the night off to babysit the door while the television spewed out a variety of the worst horror movies of the 1980s.

He munched on some of the candy, getting up to answer the door every ten or fifteen minutes, and loaded up all the little pirates and witches and ninjas and fairy princesses with gobs of treats. He couldn't help but smile at their innocence, though he warned each group of kids to be careful. This was a dangerous night, after all. Blaze hoped it would pass uneventfully, and so far it had.

Then around 9:30, right in the middle of _Nightmare on Elm Street 2_, there was a heavy, loud knock. Too heavy for a little kid's hand. Johnny rose cautiously from his chair, his sense of warning sparking like a severed electrical wire. He put his hand on the doorknob and turned it, relieved to hear the chorus of "Tricker treat!" But when he opened the door, his eyes weren't drawn to the colorful band of grinning munchkins, but the tall black figure standing in their midst.

Blackheart smiled coolly, holding the hand of a little girl dressed in an angel costume. "Trick or treat, Johnny," he greeted in that seamless, velvety murmur of his.

"What are you doing here?" Blaze demanded. "What do you want?"

Blackheart looked down at the children surrounding him. "What _do_ we want, kids?"

"CANDY!" came the gleeful cries.

The demon chuckled as he raised his eyes to the astounded Blaze. "Ah, childhood. How brief it is. Well, don't make them wait, Johnny. It's a busy night for all of us."

Blaze, feeling incredibly stupid and thinking he must either be dreaming or losing his mind, quickly distributed the candy and set the bucket aside. The kids chimed out their thanks and walked away. The little girl tugged on Blackheart's hand. "Aren't you coming, Mr Black?" she asked.

"No, pumpkin," Blackheart said with a grin, crouching down to her level, his long coat trailing on the ground. "You go on. I have to talk to my friend for a while."

The girl looked visibly crestfallen and Blackheart chucked her chin affectionately, making her giggle. The sight made Blaze sick to his stomach. "Run along now, angel," the demon said. "Have a happy Halloween."

The little girl waved goodbye and ran to catch up with the rest of her friends. Blackheart put his hands on his thighs and slowly stood. Blaze glared at him venomously. "You son of a bitch," he muttered.

"Indeed. You wouldn't want to meet her. So then." He clasped his pale hands together and smiled. "Are you going to make me stand outside all night, or are you going to invite me in?"

"Why are you here?"

Blackheart shrugged, a flippant gesture. "It's a nice night. I thought you and I could set aside our differences this one day out of the year and enjoy each other's company, demon to demon." He flashed a sultry, mischievous smirk. "I promise I'll behave. You can chain me up if I'm bad."

Blaze didn't like Blackheart's lascivious tone one bit, but knew that he had the power to kick the punk's ass if he decided to act up. He might not win, but he was certain he would live to see morning. Besides, Johnny's curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he wanted to know the _real_ reason why Blackheart had shown up on his doorstep. He stood aside, allowing the demon to enter. Blackheart sauntered in, boots tapping on the floor. Blaze shut the door and locked it, turned off the outside lights. Trick-or-treating was over for tonight.

"Nice place," Blackheart commented, eyes roaming the small, dim apartment. "The duct tape on the windows is a nice touch."

Johnny stepped forward and grabbed the demon's lapels. "Cut the shit and tell me why you're here."

Blackheart laughed. "Aren't _we_ eager tonight!"

Blaze gave him a hard shake. "Answer my question."

"You won't like it."

"Try me."

"Suit yourself." Blackheart leaned forward and pressed his surprisingly soft, warm lips to Johnny's. Moments later a fist landed on his jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor. Blaze stood over him, furious and panting. Blackheart laughed haltingly as he raised his head, a thin trickle of blood oozing from the corner of his mouth. "I told you you wouldn't like it."

Blaze lifted his boot and kicked him in the chest, which seemed to temporarily wipe that repugnant grin off of his face. But moments later it was back: a leering curve of dangerously attractive lips. "Why are you attacking me, Johnny? I never raised a finger to you. Hmph. Humans. So stupid and violent. Let's not act like humans, Johnny. Let's be friends tonight."

"Fuck you," Blaze spat. "You didn't come here to spread the love. Now tell me the truth or so help me, I will rip your goddamned heart out and microwave it."

Blackheart continued to chuckle as he pulled the silk sash from around his slender neck and used it to dab up the blood in the corner of his mouth. "You're wrong, Johnny. I _did_ come here to spread something." His eyes met Blaze's, stormy and smoldering with something hot.

Johnny swallowed dryly, his eyes fixing upon Blackheart's exposed throat, and suddenly it was all he could think about. So white. Smooth and flawless. Was it warm or was it cold? Did it throb with a pulse, or was it still and lifeless?

"Touch it and find out," Blackheart murmured, lifting his chin to reveal even more of his neck. "Go on."

Knowing full well that it was probably some sort of trap, yet maddeningly unable to stop himself, Blaze kneeled down and reached out hesitantly. His fingers brushed the demon's soft skin. Warmth. He wrapped his hand around Blackheart's throat, causing him to smile. "Go on," he purred. "Tighter."

Johnny tightened his grip slightly and felt for the first time a fast, steady pulse beneath the delicate flesh. So there was a heart that beat blood through this evil body, was there?

"Yes," Blackheart whispered, his voice low and thick enough to be a moan. "Just like yours."

"But mine isn't black," Johnny uttered.

"A heart of any color can still be filled with evil." The demon leaned forward "Or love."

Blaze remained crouched between Blackheart's legs, and this time when his enemy brought their faces together, the anger and humiliation was gone. "Mm," Blackheart hummed, licking his lips. "So sweet, Johnny." He kissed the man again, drinking long, his tongue slipping between Blaze's lips to play.

Johnny, helpless to resist, reached up and cupped one cool, alabaster cheek in his hot hand. The slight tang of blood was coppery and bright; Blackheart tasted like how fire looked — scorching red, smoky orange, bittersweet yellow, teasing and flickering, sinfully delicious.

The demon tilted his head, closed his eyes, reached up to brush his hand against the back of Johnny's neck, kissing with tenderness and restraint uncommon for his hellish brethren. Blaze felt the slow, gnawing burn of desire begin to build in his groin and he suddenly hated himself, the demon that was now a part of him. He broke the kiss with a wet smack and Blackheart gazed at him expectantly, those pretty blue eyes of his burning through Blaze's body in their own kind of Penance Stare.

"I hate you," Johnny muttered and stroked the demon's bottom lip with his thumb, wanting nothing more than to suck it until it was swollen.

"And I hate you," Blackheart said, his warm breath flowing across Blaze's knuckles. He blinked slowly, and it was the most sensual movement the man had ever seen. "But that's no reason why we can't enjoy ourselves for just one night."

Johnny's brain screamed no but his body had already made its choice. He wanted to ask Blackheart to clarify, even though knew he was just going to get a smug retort; he was pretty sure what the demon meant by 'enjoying themselves'. He didn't need to have it translated — he just wanted to hear it, as damningly sick as it was. And with his thoughts coming loud over the pounding of his own heart, it was little wonder he got his wish.

"Sex," Blackheart hissed between his teeth, his voice barely above a whisper. He slid closer to Blaze, letting his hand linger across the man's tight shirt, his eyes deep with lust. "I know you have needs, Johnny. So do I." His fingers ran their way down down down, to Blaze's belt. "I am part mortal, after all." He grinned teasingly and lifted his dangerous, longing gaze to Johnny's face. "Off the record. You and me. This night only."

Blackheart stopped caressing when Blaze wrapped his hand around his throat again, this time with aggression. "You expect me to believe you came all this way for a one night stand?" he growled.

"Yes," Blackheart answered honestly, his voice rough from the constriction. "You fascinate me and I want to know you."

"I can tell you my life story right now. Would that help?"

"You know what I mean," the demon retorted. "Don't make me beg, Johnny. It makes me sound so foolish."

"You must be pretty desperate then."

"No. I'm lonely."

Blaze's next words died in his throat. Something in Blackheart's voice was utterly raw and truthful, a fragile vulnerability waiting to be exploited. Johnny stared at the demon's handsome face — there was no trace of deception; his eyes were deep with internal ache, his smile gone, all of his arrogance and conceit pacified by his confession. Blaze let his hand go slack, and Blackheart took a slow breath inward.

"I'm lonely, too," said Johnny.

"I know."

Man and demon stared at one another, letting the noise of the television fill the silence. Then Blaze stood to his feet, extending his hand. Blackheart reached out and took it, and he was pulled from the floor. Johnny jerked his head toward the couch and Blackheart sauntered backward in its direction, keeping his eyes on the man as he slowly removed his coat and tossed it to the floor. He sank down onto the worn leather cushions and sat silently, waiting, his hands lying clenched upon his thighs. Blaze grabbed the remote and knocked down the volume to white noise, then sat on the footrest directly across from the couch.

"So." He leaned forward and brushed his fingertips against the row of silver buttons on Blackheart's velveteen vest, admiring them vaguely. "Why tonight?" The first one popped free, and the hand moved down to the next.

"It's a truce," the demon answered in a breathy whisper, watching the buttons come undone one after the other. His pulse spiked sharply as the last one was freed. "Demons are allowed to enter the mortal world on this one night, to visit among humans and cause mischief. Those are the terms."

"Set by who?" Johnny started to work on the black shirt beneath the open vest, gradually revealing a pale sliver of chest.

"Heaven. They've given us free reign one night of the year," Blackheart murmured, spreading his knees and allowing Blaze to lean in closer. "We test mankind's moral fortitude. We tempt him, frolic with him, frighten him. And Man can either join us or fear us. But by the light of dawn we must return to Hell — tomorrow is the Day of Saints." The demon prince shrugged his narrow shoulders, allowing his shirt and vest to slide from his smooth, immaculate skin. He locked his fervent blue eyes to Johnny's. He was beautiful. "A day when Man can repent for his sins of the previous night."

"How convenient," Blaze muttered, trailing his palm down Blackheart's firm chest, over the hard pebble of his nipple and the warm softness of his belly.

The demon blinked hazily, every touch bringing with it a plethora of feelings he had rarely ever experienced. "That's how the universe was made," he explained in a low tone. "Equally weighed and measured, kept in balance by two opposing forces."

"Tell me," Johnny said, dragging his hand over the hot leather of Blackheart's fly, "do these forces ever get thrown off balance?"

"Sometimes," the demon answered, reaching out to grasp Johnny's shirt collar. "But one side is always ready to put the other in its place."

Their faces met with warm open mouths and eager tongues and Johnny moved forward, sliding first one knee then the other onto the cushions, pushing Blackheart to the side and down. He worked his way onto the couch, hovering over the demon, caressing the skin and hair and shape of his immortal enemy. "We're opposing forces," Johnny panted quietly, pausing to catch his breath before descending for another damning kiss. "But I think you're getting out of line."

"So put me in my place," the demon prince dared, drawing up his knees and letting the man settle between his legs. "If you think you can."

Pale wrists were suddenly seized by ruddy, callused hands, and Blackheart found himself pinned to the sofa. Johnny grinned down at him superiorly. "I will. 'Cause your place, Blackheart, is right underneath me."

Blaze relished the mixture of fear and anticipation on the demon's face before he lowered his head to kiss him again. Blackheart submitted at once, his pride vanishing with the promise of fleshly reward, and he allowed Blaze to lead him, dominate him. The unruly young demon who had obeyed no one since his birth now rendered himself unto a half-mortal man whose existence was as empty and desolate as his own.

Johnny ground his pelvis into Blackheart's, causing the demon to groan deeply in his throat when he felt the human's heat and hardness press against his own awakening flesh. He returned the gesture, nudging his hips upward, bidding the man to continue.

Blaze smirked. "You're easy."

"So are you," Blackheart breathed.

Johnny leaned down and laid an open-mouthed kiss on the demon's white throat, the first of a trail that led down his bare torso. "You should be resisting this," he whispered between kisses. "Come on. Put up more of a fight."

"Don't want to," murmured Blackheart, rolling his head back and closing his eyes as he felt a slippery hot tongue dip into his navel. He opened his mouth in a silent moan, arched his back, buried his fingers in Johnny's auburn hair. "I like it."

Blaze slowly undid the front of the black leather pants, exposing Blackheart to the cool air. "You know I mean to fuck you," he whispered, dragging his lips along the soft, warm flesh.

The demon swallowed wetly. "Yeah," he gasped, reaching above his head to clutch the cushions. "I want you to."

A tongue flicked out, licking up the first oozing, tangy droplets. "Is that why you came here?"

Blackheart grimaced at the question, then lost himself as he felt Johnny's mouth descend over him, long enough to fill him with agonizing desire, yet brief enough to keep him from losing his mind. "Y-yes," he panted raggedly, starting to squirm and writhe beneath Blaze like a torpid serpent awakening in the sun.

Johnny jerked the leather pants down Blackheart's slim thighs, down to his knees, wrestling and yanking until they at last tangled in the demon's boots, and then everything was pulled off and tossed aside.

_Why?_ Blaze thought, staring down at the nude white flesh, knowing that soon he was going to conquer it. _Why me? Why him? Why now? Why that body? Why those eyes? Why this loneliness?_

Blackheart closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. "Stop," he pleaded, putting his hand on his brow. "Stop it. You're hurting me."

"I haven't touched you."

"Your questions are like knives." Blackheart opened his eyes and gazed up at Johnny. "Stop asking why. Let it go."

"I can't."

The demon propped himself up on his elbows. "Then I will — touch me."

Blaze hesitated.

"Touch me."

A hand reached out, laid itself on Blackheart's hipbone. The skin was so soft it almost didn't seem real to Johnny. None of this seemed real. Any minute now, he just knew, he was going to wake up on the sofa with the TV still on, and find himself as lonely as he was yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that . . .

Blackheart sat up and took Blaze by the head, pressing a desperate kiss to his lips and slowly pulling him down. He went without a fight, surrendering almost completely, letting his body settle onto the one lying beneath it. He cupped Blackheart's smooth shoulders, ran his hands down his biceps, up again to his neck, feeling as if for once, for tonight, the loneliness would cease to feast on his waning spirit like a carrion bird pecking at a fresh corpse.

The bluish light of the static-choked television illuminated the two figures in the darkness, peeling off layer after layer until all skin was laid bare. Black shadows fell across faces, chests, arms and legs, the graceful curve of spines as backs arched and stretched over the cushions. Blackheart bit his lip to stifle his scream as he was penetrated, moaning quietly as the movements began and his mortal body grew used to the man invading it. Only the Ghost Rider could make him feel pain, could make him feel at all. Even hurting was better than the eternal numbness with which he was cursed — and to feel pleasure after so many centuries of fruitless passion was heavenly.

"_Deus_," Blackheart swore, the blasphemous word rolling from his hot tongue as he put ten fingernail marks into Johnny's back. "You fucking bastard . . . Ah! How dare you deaden me to this world . . ."

"Shhh," Blaze hushed, stroking his hands through the sweaty midnight-black hair of his young lover. "Feel me. Feel my power. I'm gonna give it to you . . . Every last bit of me."

"Please," Blackheart begged hoarsely, urging the man deeper with a roll of his hips. "Please, Johnny . . . give . . . me . . ."

It was difficult trying to make this moment last. It had been so long since Johnny had last been touched by a gentle hand, so long since he had held another person, so very long since he had made love. He was making it to Blackheart now, driven by loneliness and desperation into the arms of his greatest enemy, who returned his passion with no less vigor. It wasn't supposed to be this tender. It was supposed to be raw, painful, a meaningless fuck and nothing else. But it was so much more than that now. And Johnny felt his heart and mind condemn his body for its betrayal.

The prince of demons was uncharacteristically patient this night, though he craved the final moment when Johnny would stain him with his potent release. He waited for that moment to come, yet in the meantime he savored the sensations that coursed through his mortal frame, intensifying with each touch until he wanted to scream to give voice to his desire. He didn't want this to end — he wanted it to go on and on until the first light of dawn would finally tear him away, dragging him back into that dark place of eternal solitary numbness. The place where, by his infernal father, he had been condemned to remain.

Blackheart wrapped his arms tightly around Johnny's neck and whimpered, "Not yet. Not yet . . ."

Blaze bit his tongue, clenched his teeth, tried to listen to his lover's words and make this night last as long as possible. But the end is inevitable and inescapable, and when Johnny finally surrendered himself to the soul-shaking forces that ripped through his body, it was with a scream of regret.

But his cry was only half as remorseful as Blackheart's.

In the aftermath of passion's storm, Blaze lifted himself off of the demon and blew gently on his neck and chest, cooling the sweat that gleamed on his pale skin. Blackheart's eyes filled with pain. "Don't," he begged. "Don't be so . . ."

His sentence was left unfinished as Johnny ended it with a kiss that lasted longer than it should have, meant more than it should have. They parted reluctantly, and Johnny laid his forehead against his enemy's. "Thanks," he whispered.

Blackheart blinked and looked away. "I should go now." His voice was rough, dry.

"No. Stay," said Blaze softly. "Dawn's still a while off."

"Why?" the demon asked, furrowing his dark eyebrows. "Why do you want me to stay? Why should I?"

Johnny took Blackheart's chin and turned his head to face him. "Stop asking why. Let it go."

Blackheart stared back into green-blue eyes, then slowly slid his arms over the man's shoulders, giving in.

Letting it go.

† † †

They parted ways at the front door, just before dawn. Blackheart tucked his bloodstained silk tie into his vest and cast a haunted, hollow gaze at Johnny, standing awkwardly with his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. Goodbyes were always unpleasant, but this one was especially painful. It seemed that there was nothing either could think of to say to the other, and so they said nothing. Blackheart drew his lips into a tight line and nodded to Blaze, then turned and began to walk away.

Johnny stared after him, his mind racing and his heart aching. Who knows how long the loneliness would continue to take bites out of him, wearing him down, eating him alive. It was a shame that this had only happened once. What he would give to feel it again.

Maybe it was impossible to let go. Maybe there were some things worth hanging on to.

The smile came unbidden to Johnny's lips. "Same time next year?" he called.

Blackheart stopped at the end of the front walk, turned, and his desolate expression slowly bent itself into an amused smirk. "Yeah," he said. "Same time next year."


End file.
